


Unnamed but Understood

by Ryu_Reikai_Akuma



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, Implied Relationships, M/M, Reflection, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 12:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma/pseuds/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma
Summary: Some things don’t need to be defined or spoken to be understood.





	Unnamed but Understood

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another episode of Ryu read a fic with an interesting format and decided to try to imitate it. Keeping things short was a bit frustrating, but it’s a nice practice in keeping myself concise. The, uh, sections are stolen from [this LJ community](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%236), but I'm too lazy to apply to be a member and plus I'm not entirely sure they would accept incest ship. Let's keep this between us, then, yes?

Trust

Never turn your back to your enemy, a former tutor of Thorin had said many decades ago when he was only starting to learn swordsmanship. It was one of the basic lessons, simple but fundamental in survival. Watch your weakest points, leave no opening for attack, never turn your back to your enemy. Thorin was the one who commissioned a double sword for Fili to be carried over his back. However, Kili stubbornly rejected his attempts to protect him. Thorin spent months trying to persuade Kili to have more than a full quiver on his back. Unlike his older brother, however, the lad didn’t listen, so Thorin subjected him to anger for a good few days until sense and affection returned to him.

Thorin hadn’t approved of Kili’s choice of weapon (indeed he often disapproved of Kili’s choices in general), but when enemies fell behind him, struck by perfectly aimed arrows; when he felt that familiar quiver pressing against his back as he and Kili fought enemies together; when he felt safe as he faced great dangers, he was grateful that he was wrong and Kili was stubborn.

Truth

He didn’t know what brought him to say it. He wasn’t even slightly inebriated, despite the half of bottle of wine he had drunk. But, he was tired and Dwalin had once told him that exhaustion drew out truth better than pain. Whatever the reason, Thorin was suddenly compelled to murmur, “I’m afraid that I’ll turn out like my grandfather.”

The proper response to this was reassurances that his fear was completely unfounded. After all, a king was supposed to be strong, brave, impervious, perfect. Balin did just that, while Dwalin snorted in disagreement, Dis shook her head in disbelief, and Fili politely frowned in disapproval. Far drunker than the rest of them, Kili exclaimed loudly “If you do, I will yell at you until you come to your senses!”, prompting Fili to hush and reprimand him. As Kili defended the sincerity of his statement, Thorin smiled behind the rim of his goblet of wine.

Rules

The festivities of formal events, Kili had long decided, were not worth the food, drink, and entertainment provided. He wasn’t so keen on memorizing little facts about dwarves who only spoke to him perhaps once a year. He was even less keen on being polite to those he knew gave the royal family many troubles. But, he knew what must be done and he understood the power of display of strength, wealth, history, and unity, so he played along.

But, tact, patience and quickness of mind weren’t Kili’s fortes. Not halfway through dinner, Fili elbowed him and whispered “you’re a nightmare” before preventing whatever political disaster he was on the brink of making (Kili didn’t notice, honestly). Everywhere Kili looked, he saw dwarves weaving nets and pulling strings, making allies and gaining enemies. How much simpler it would be if they would all just speak plainly, but this was politics, old as time and as dreary as an ancient tomb. Looking at the honorary seat at the end of the table, Kili caught Thorin’s knowing (and dare he said sympathetic?) gaze. Defeated, he sighed quietly, kept his complaints to himself, and continued to lie.

Loss

Kili didn’t know yet how to handle death. He disguised this with cheer and hid away in crowded taverns where a small gloom would do unnoticed and overly wide smiles would be easily dismissed. Only when it was well past midnight would he return home to erase whatever still remained of his trouble with sleep. This morning, news arrived that one of Kili’s good friend perished while guarding a merchant to Ered Mithrin. Normally, this would lead Kili to disappear in taverns, but violent rainstorm kept all sensible dwarves indoors, and Kili, despite appearances, was a very sensible dwarf.

Thorin considered the weather from his study, looked at the mountain of works before him, and left the room. After some deliberation, he equipped himself with a history book, a fairytale book for adults. Kili was quiet, his smile strained, when Thorin found him in a nook in the drawing room. He said nothing when Thorin began to read him out loud the adventures and achievements of their forbears. When Thorin’s voice ran out, Kili left and returned with a tray of tea. They both grimaced at the leafy taste, but the drink kept them warm in the worsening rainstorm, and Kili’s smiles were, though still weary, more genuine than before.

Loyalty

He would never leave Thorin. That was a fact. Long before he had pledged his life and services to his king, Kili was already bound to him by blood and other things he wasn’t able to put into words. This was what he was born to do, even though sometimes it didn’t seem to be in his nature to obey. He wasn’t as obedient as Fili, loving to test the limits set for him by the society. He could be thoughtless, too, pursuing fun and pleasure with little regards for consequences. Indeed some (his mother) would say he would better serve Thorin by keeping his distance.

But, Kili refused to listen. Thorin made him try to be better—better warrior, better prince, better dwarf. He was far from perfect, but he continuously tried to improve himself so that he could stand beside Thorin, follow him wherever he went, obey any command he gave. Perhaps Thorin sensed this, because for all his anger at Kili’s frequent blunders, he never once denied Kili opportunities to rectify himself. He always gave second chances and Kili was determined to prove he deserved every single one of them.

Passion

Bofur, in the midst of out-drinking Dwalin, observed, “Thorin is a passion-less dwarf. He thinks only of responsibilities, little of pleasure.” Fili and Dwalin muttered disagreement, but neither could produce conclusive evidence.

Kili considered this at the table when he was left alone. When a dwarf tried to join him, he laughed, shook his head, and left the tavern. Humming to himself, he returned to his rooms to pick up a bottle of ale and his fiddle. (Later, he wondered how in his state he had managed to bring them through winding corridors and staircases without dropping any of them). Thorin frowned and scolded when he offered to provide music while he worked, but persistence eventually paid off. One song later, there was a small smile on Thorin’s weary face. Three songs after that, the wine bottle was opened. Two songs more and the mountain of parchments was pushed aside and Kili was sat beside Thorin, a goblet of ale in hand, listening to Thorin’s hopeful thoughts, dreams and plans to be the best leader for his people.

Duty

Thorin, as any other kings and queens, wasn’t a ruler by choice. He was born for this role and grew up accordingly to fit into it to the best of his ability. There was never any other option for him—at least option that was acceptable. Someone had to lead the dwarves to safety, then to a new home, then to prosperity (then hopefully to their true home). When his father disappeared, the responsibility had fallen onto him and he accepted it as gracefully as one could. Thoughts of rebelling from the constriction of duties were but fleeting thoughts to him. Many were dependent on him and he must not disappoint them.

It didn’t mean, however, that he never wondered what it would be like to grow up differently. That was why he let his heirs (although admittedly one more than the other) have relatively more freedom that he had had. When Fili sauntered into a room with youthful confidence (if not smugness) and Kili behaved before him without restraint or excessive self-consciousness, Thorin shook his head and sighed, but smiled, pleased to see what could’ve been had he not been a king’s firstborn son.

Forgiveness

Anger had been one of Thorin’s motivation when he lead hundreds across the world to build a new home out of stone. It, too, had been the force behind prosperity of the dwarves, strong desire to be self-sufficient and surpass those who had refused to provide any aid when it was most needed. He wasn’t the only one who felt this way. Across Middle Earth, dwarves passed this deep-seated resentment to their children and their children’s children.

Kili had travelled quite extensively. He had met all sorts of people from all sorts of places and walks of life. He noticed inaccuracies of old prejudices, having seen goodness and badness spread evenly among the people of Middle Earth. Slowly, he became aware that old preconceptions only served to blind from the truth, prevent progress and exhaust the soul–an awareness he wished he could share with Thorin. However, hate, especially for the elves, was deeply imbedded in Thorin and not without reason, for their betrayal had cost home, fortune and lives. Nevertheless, Kili had seen Thorin forgive mistakes slight and great. It might take him some time, today resentment might cloud his leadership and governance, but Kili was certain in time Thorin would choose peace and understanding.

Betrayal

There was no end of temptation for the race of dwarves whose thoughts were too often fixated on ‘more’. Greed was imbedded deep in their cores, requiring strict discipline to control. Thorin would lie if he said he never struggled with it. He coveted beauty in gold, craved the power of a proper throne, desired luxuries and pleasures select few had known. On troubled nights, he feverishly considered what would tempt his most loyal subjects to leave him. For Balin, it was wisdom, for Dwalin power, for Gloin gold, for Oin medical knowledge, for Dis gemstones, for Fili weaponries, for Kili the sight of the world. Thorin snapped and snarled and demanded to be left alone the following day, testing to see who would abandon him as many had abandoned him before. There was grim satisfaction in seeing many retreating just as he had suspected, saving him pain and disappointment. But, there was also guilt in realizing that he had succumbed to the curse running down his veins, turning him into what he knew had destroyed and could again destroy a kingdom.

Thorin stalked away for a reflection. Whispered behind him amidst rightful protestations and complaints was Kili’s argument: “We can’t leave him!”

Undefined

Everybody knew how lucky Gloin was, for he never shied from publicly and loudly praising his beloved wife and son. Such love was a rarity many dwarves never experienced, and while dwarves with royal blood had greater chance of having families, marital bliss was never guaranteed. Dis had liked her husband well enough, but never used the word love. Thrain and Thror, she claimed, felt more or less the same for their consorts. Romance stories would call it misery, though a marriage out of necessity could be as affable as any loving marriage could be.

Therefore, there was great excitement when Fili admitted strong affection for the dame chosen to be his future wife. There was no shortage of congratulations from his closest kin and Dis even shed some tears. Kili teased him as a brother was wont to do, but Fili was in too good a mood to take any offense. Deciding that a willing victim was less fun than a resistant one, Kili left him, although not before demanding nephews and nieces at least as many as the children of the owner of their favorite tavern (over a dozen!).

“Should I find you a wife as well?” Thorin asked Kili when he left Fili to the mercies of Dwalin’s relentless teasing and Gloin’s knowledgeable future predictions.

Kili laughed and shook his head. “Which unfortunate dame would you subject to me?

“A _very_ _fortunate_ one. You may find love and happiness as your brother does.”

Kili smiled and stood beside Thorin. He observed the glow in Fili’s eyes, the wide smile on his face, the sweet words he spoke of his lover, the sheer happiness he exuded to fill the large sitting room. It was a new and unusual spectacle, but was it truly totally unknown to Kili? Kili looked at Thorin and found him staring at him. No word was spoken, but understanding passed between them, confirmed by Kili’s widening grin and Thorin’s softening gaze. Quietly, they returned their attention to the scene before them, sides touching, contentment matching.

**Author's Note:**

> I was actually going to keep this to myself a little longer, but I haven’t been able to edit anything long, so here it is. In other news, I made a tumblr post about this ship and it unexpectedly got a bit of notes. The problem is I’m not entirely sure the people who reblogged/liked it realize that it refers to an incest ship (and if they do realize this, why aren’t they my friends???). Here’s [the link](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/post/180240716924).
> 
> I’m attention-starved on [my tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/).


End file.
